If: Then:
by Order of Arcadia
Summary: Here are a few things that Vision learned within his first year of life: yellow is better than red, hair is inconvenient, and Wall-E was wrong. He also learned about power, love, and what it means to be human. NOT ScarletVision, rated for reading level and non-explicit discussion of intercourse. Post-AoU, the Remembered AU.
1. Complex and Lively

**If: Then:**

"Okay," said Tony Stark as he bent down over the workbench, "send out a bogus signal."

Vision lifted his head to respond. He had assumed this position, seated on the laboratory workbench, not for his own comfort, but in order to be closer to the floor and more accessible to the others in the room who could not fly as he could. "What should I send?" he asked.

Mr. Stark tapped the side of his specially designed glasses, and Vision saw the holograms waking up in the lenses. "Anything you want. Just keep them activated so I can take a look."

This ritual had become fairly commonplace over Vision's first months of life. The design of his hardware was foreign to the Avengers, being Ultron's brainchild—Vision often wondered if such a moniker would apply to the whole of himself a little more literally—and they, Stark especially, were just as fascinated with it as, truth be told, he was with them.

The curiosity, ingenuity, and enthusiasm of human beings captivated Vision. He delighted in watching it, delighted in its existence—to think of destroying humanity, for which he was originally created, was abhorrent to him as he witnessed the finer virtues of their collective psyche—and nowhere was it at work more clearly than here, in the laboratory situated prominently in Tony Stark's wing of Avengers HQ.

In obedience to the earlier instruction, Vision sent out some nonsense signals, ones of the kind he used to connect with Ultron but full of such nonsense that it would corrupt nothing should one of the many and sunder equipment in the laboratory pick it up. As he did so, a faint ruddy glow became visible in his eyesight, as the color of his irises changed over from blue to red.

Mr. Stark's eyes were immediately alight with excitement, ricocheting from one holographic readout to another within his glasses. "That's infrared!" One of the holograms displayed a reflection of Vision's eye, and it zoomed in to reveal a mass of small, concentrated domes. "Transmitters all over the iris, microscopic ones. Is this IrDA? God, I haven't seen that since 2005."

Vision hardly had the opportunity to access the internet's database for help deciphering his jargon when Dr. Banner joked blandly from behind Stark, "Gives a whole new meaning to free-space optical communication."

"Literally optical!" Mr. Stark enthused, standing up and gesturing to Vision excitedly.

This was another enchanting facet of humanity—its propensity for complex and lively interpersonal connections. Vision would have gladly mulled this over for far longer, but he had to set aside that thought for another time.

He ceased the signal, the red in his eyes fading back to blue, and volunteered, "Ultron had compatible receivers in his eyes as well."

Mr. Stark was still excited. He continued to ramble, pacing the lab: "Instant communication between drones based on line of sight, low bit error, works even if you don't have wifi; of course wifi is has higher range, but if you don't have the option, it's genius."

"And also a direct link to his programming." Vision had been able to follow along thus far; though Stark's mouth was velocious, Vision's processing yet exceeded its speed. "I was able to corrupt and discard internet connectivity software from there."

Dr. Banner shrugged. "Well, the line of sight does explain why you had to hold him down."

Vision frowned, a slight pang crackling through his head as he recalled the strain that rendered him temporarily unconscious. "He fought...very hard."

"That's it," cried Mr. Stark, with a wide and nonsensical gesture, "I'm installing everything electric in the HQ with IrDA. You'll be able to use the _microwave_ just by looking at it."

Now this, Vision could not compute. "Why," he asked, thoroughly confused, "would I need to use the microwave?"

Mr. Stark paused and looked at him, tapping a pencil on his palm. "Science project?"

"No," Dr. Banner sighed.

Belatedly, Vision realized that perhaps he ought to have hidden his smile.

Mr. Stark waved the comment away and continued with equal bombast. "Well, just the StarkPads and laptops, then. Consider it a housewarming gift. And, uh…" Shuffling his hands into his pockets, and suddenly seeming quite meek, he added, "thanks, for...helping clean up my mess."

Ah. Vision knew what this was. Mr. Stark still harbored a certain—immense—amount of guilt for the destruction caused by Ultron, though each of the Avengers had been diligent to assure him he was not blamed nor to blame. It warmed Vision's heart—metaphorically, of course—to see them rallying around one of their own so staunchly, and even to see Stark's sensitivity to his part in the matter—though of course Vision wished no more torment on the man than he'd inflict upon himself.

So he gave what he hoped was as warm and compassionate a smile as Stark's teammates gave and lifted off of the workbench to hover above the floor. "It was my pleasure," he answered sincerely—and truly, so far as his part in stopping Ultron was concerned, it was. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Not yet." Mr. Stark seemed to be in higher spirits, as he resumed his flippant air. Stepping up to Vision, he continued, "Brucey-bear and I have got to build some receptors, and then we're gonna test what this thing can do." The blunt end of his pencil tapped the Mind Stone, and just briefly Vision could see the yellow glow.

"Please don't call me that," Dr. Banner sighed again. This time, he didn't even look up from the StarkPad in which he was inputting data.

"Come on, you like it!" Mr. Stark turned over his shoulder and gave a wheedling grin.

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes—apparently an expression of annoyance and resignation—but Vision's sharp eyes caught the minuscule upward twitch at the corners of his lips.

Vision allowed himself to smile. Complex and lively, indeed.

* * *

**A/N: Ah yes, I love *checks writing on hand* Imbecile War and En—End?—Enema. **

**Anyway, this is my five-years-late contribution to the flood of "Vision figures out himself and the world" fics that came out when I joined this fandom in early 2015. If you're new to my work, welcome! I mostly write Captain America fanfic, but in honor of the only boy that canon screwed over worse than my boy Bucky, I've decided to try my hand at writing Vision. Many thanks to my own deviant android, Raina, for her inspiration and help beta-reading this story!**

**I've got a handful of chapters pre-written, so you get two today to kick this off. I'll probably be updating bi-weekly, once on the weekend and again in the middle of the week, since the chapters are so short. If you want to stay updated, you know what to do!**

**Reviews are microwaves. Tbc...**


	2. Wall-E

Movie night on Saturday was mandatory, as per Captain Rogers' orders. Though Vision was exempt from obligation to team breakfast on account of having no necessity to eat—he was still welcome, of course, and attended regardless if only for the conversation—his presence was required for the ritual watching of films, and he was glad to oblige.

Almost as entertaining as the films themselves, however, were the petty spats over entertainment choice that inevitably preceded them.

Clint Barton, who frequented the HQ if only to participate in movie nights on Saturdays, waved a plastic disc case over his head and proclaimed, "We gotta watch Wall-E!"

Natasha Romanoff caught one look at the smug expression on his face and rolled her eyes. (This was becoming familiar to Vision.)

"Really?" asked Dr. Banner, sounding very unimpressed. "I mean, we've had a lot of robot-related trauma recently—"

Vision turned to look at his face, as is proper etiquette when another person is speaking, but his gaze made Dr. Banner backpedal.

"Not that—I didn't mean you. I mean the other—you know—you're, you're great." The smile on Dr. Banner's face had an anxious edge.

It took Vision a little longer than normal to sort out the meaning of the fragmented sentences, but he finally decided that Dr. Banner had good intentions and chose to smile. "Thank you."

"Come on, man," insisted Barton, "it's cute. The little trash compactor bot is a good guy."

"It'll make you cry," Romanoff said dispassionately.

"In a good way," said Barton.

"Still seems a bit topical." The glare she leveled at him might have sent anyone who knew her less running for the hills.

Barton shrugged, and Vision could yet see the traces of a smile on his face that he was attempting to conceal. "My kids like it."

"Your kids like everything."

"Would you rather we watch Frozen?"

With vehemence, she cried, "No—!"

"We have not seen it."

This time, it was Wanda who spoke. She did so quietly, and from her place seated on the couch far outside the conversation, but immediately the voices ceased and several gazes turned her way.

Seated on the couch beside her, and looking equally concerned as the others, was Sergeant Barnes—or Bucky, as he insisted on being addressed—and draped over him from behind the couch, arms over his shoulders and chin on his head in a so far vain attempt to irritate him, was Pietro.

"_Ej_," said the latter in a lazy drawl, "maybe we can stop arguing and standing around and just watch something, yes?"

Captain Rogers had not yet spoken up, but a sly smile began to appear on his face. "Well, I was going to suggest—"

"We're not doing the elves again," Mr. Stark stated into his coffee.

"It's called Lord of the Rings," Barnes barked from the couch, "and it's a classic, Stark!"

"You had the pick last time!" was the fiery retort.

Captain Rogers broke into the budding argument with, "Wall-E it is!"

Barton whooped and ran to the television set while Romanoff once again rolled her eyes.

Despite the opposition, no one seemed to dislike the film. Vision wondered if perhaps the initial protests were raised simply because no one wanted to appear eager to watch a piece of media produced for children.

Well, Vision had no such qualms. He was but a few months of age himself, after all; perhaps he fit the target demographic, if only in technicality. In any case, the film was charming, and he enjoyed it.

Though Agent Romanoff was the first to warn them about the sentimental effect of the film, it was not she who it most effected. When all hope seemed lost—and the titular character's memory of his beloved, Eve, lost with it—Vision heard some slight sniffles from the couch behind which he hovered. A closer inspection revealed that was Wanda, biting down on the hem of her sleeve as Pietro held his arm around her shoulders.

He was at a loss for how to comfort her. Perhaps more physical contact, as her brother offered, would have soothed her spirits. But he was saved from his dilemma when a spark from the sleek, white robot Eve returned Wall-E's memory.

Wanda rejoiced, throwing her arms into the air with a cry of joy. Many of the others laughed and rejoiced with her.

As he did with everything, Vision took careful stock of what he saw. Human beings seemed built to communicate through story—to express their values and desires in small ideas packaged into tales of such fantastical things as elves and travel in space. Here, indeed, he found many packaged ideas, and one he'd observed multiple times over his short life thus far, but to which he had only now found the words.

It was a simple equation, found in the spark between two little robots on the Common Room television screen.

_if: one is in love with another  
__then: one is human_

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to the Remembered AU, where Pietro is alive, Bruce is back, Bucky is just casually an Avenger, and Clint is only semi-retired and happily starting arguments. I love these dorks. **

**Reviews are movie nights.** **Tbc...**


	3. Scotch and Physics

Few things pleased Vision more than a summons to Mr. Stark's lab. While most others might find the prospect of being observed in a laboratory a little invasive and disconcerting, Vision looked forward with great anticipation to learning still more about himself from the advanced equipment and procedures. Mr. Stark was thorough, profoundly interested, and kind, and Vision took great pride in every successful experiment and new slew of information.

Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner set up a free-standing wall in the middle of the room, surrounded by a multitude of sensors and cameras, and Vision phased through it many times so they could take readings. They found that his body decreased density at all points that came in contact with the wall, so that his atomic particles could slide past the particles of the wall. They found that this created friction, manifesting visually in a yellow static glow and sensorily in a slight tingle of heat on his skin. They found that his density remained in a neutral, solid state everywhere he was not in contact with the wall—so, if he wished, he might step through, and his feet would not fall through the floor.

Mr. Stark produced a wireless density meter and attached it to Vision's arm; though it was useless for experimenting with the wall, it nonetheless discovered that his density could increase to make him nigh invulnerable to blows, and could decrease inside his body to make the vibranium exoskeleton light and able to fly. Riding air currents, shifting weight, and manipulating density allowed him control in the air, and to rise to full density mid-flight made him a very effective—perhaps slightly too effective—battering ram. Mr. Stark forgave the dent in the concrete blast wall and moved on.

It was but a humble weighing scale that flummoxed them all.

"No, no, do it again." Mr. Stark glared into a holographic monitor and waved his hand at Vision. "Make your cape thing again, I want to see it."

Vision obeyed. The vibranium material, now light and supple as cloth, manifested and tumbled down from his shoulders.

"No change in weight," muttered Mr. Stark. "It's gotta be shifting around particles that are already present in his body—which makes sense, first law of thermodynamics, and all that—"

"No." Dr. Banner shook his head and stepped away. "No, that can't be right."

"Can't be right?" Mr. Stark seemed affronted. "What do you mean, 'can't be right', it's all right in front of us!"

Vision lifted gingerly off the weighing scale and hovered in the air, bemused as he listened to their argument.

"No, no, no, listen." Dr. Banner steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips. "He changes density."

"Yeah."

"He changes density, and that makes him lighter."

"Yeah." Mr. Stark looked like he was somewhere between confusion and suffering a headache.

"But matter can't be created or destroyed, and weight is proportional to mass, so if the matter is constant when he's changing density—then where does the weight go?" Dr. Banner's eyes were wide, and the intensity in them bordered on anger.

Mr. Stark stared at him for a long moment. Then he stared at the monitor. Then, he turned on his heel and marched towards the exit door. "Hang on. I need a scotch to deal with this."

"Do you still require my assistance?" Vision asked, raising his voice slightly so the other men could hear him.

"No," Mr. Stark called back with a wave of his hand, "get out of here!"

"Is it a pocket dimension of some kind?" Dr. Banner went on as he trailed after him.

"Scotch first, then physics, Bruce!"

Their argument continued out the door and well out of earshot.

With that, Vision was left alone with his own thoughts. His thoughts, as they happened to be at the moment, were this: perhaps some things were better left as mysteries after all.

Never mind, he decided, as he lifted up off his feet and sailed through the walls towards his room. There was another, more exciting project that begged his attention.

* * *

**A/N: Happy Wednesday! Enjoy the Science Bros getting mad at science.**

**Special message for Raven:** Hooray! You found this fic! I did think of you when writing the Science Bros. I remember that you requested it way back.

Yeah, I changed my name! The short explanation is on my bio, but the slightly longer one is that Arcadia and the Aether mean about the same thing in the sense I'm using it, and I didn't want to be confused with an Infinity Stone again. LOL!

I've got a soft spot for the oft-forgotten background characters. Vision fits the bill. I'm glad you're enjoying it! Wall-E is a cute movie, not one of my top ten, but still good. Would recommend.

**Reviews are hypothetical pocket dimensions. Tbc...**


	4. Eve

Vision, of course, had his own personal Eve.

There were few persons who had been as kind to him, in these scant few months of his existence, as Wanda Maximoff. Though he'd first addressed her as Miss Maximoff, she'd insisted upon being called by her first name eventually. Vision was honored at this gesture which identified them as friends.

As new recruits to the Avengers, and fellow warriors in the battle of Sokovia, Vision found that he and Wanda had much in common; as thoughtful, introspective people, and those who felt a little out of place in their new home—she, among Americans, and he among human beings at all—they had still more.

Vision had access to all the collective knowledge of the internet that would take Wanda decades, perhaps lifetimes, to learn; and Wanda had access to years of human experience to which Vision could not yet relate. Pietro was in a similar situation as she, of course, but he bored of conversation quickly; so it was often Wanda who was his partner for discussions in the Common Room, late into the night when the others had gone to bed and she too ought to be sleeping.

(Vision, to his embarrassment, often forgot the necessity of sleep—seeing as he had no need of it himself—but when she yawned, he was always quick to insist upon it for her own good. Humans needed rest to recharge their brains, that he knew for sure. He wanted to be sure that she received it.)

It was in the Common Room that Vision found her later that evening, and he approached her slowly, one hand carefully concealed behind his back. "Wanda."

"Yes?" She responded immediately. "What is it?"

Her accent still persisted, though not as thickly as Pietro's. To be honest, Vision hardly heard it at all. She had been seated on the couch, and when she stood to her feet, Vision floated into the air and pivoted slightly so that his hand was still concealed.

Wanda paused. Then, she smiled. "Vision," she said, clasping her hands and leaning forward. "Is there something you want to show me?"

"Perhaps." He allowed himself a smile, pleased that he had ensnared her. "Guess what it is."

She ducked forward and tried to peek, and he again floated into the air, alighting on her other side without revealing anything.

Wanda laughed and spun to face him. "You know I can look into your mind, right?"

"But I want you to guess," he insisted, thoroughly enjoying the game.

"Hm." She crossed her arms and tapped her chin with a single finger. "It's small, because it can hide behind your back." After a little more thought, she asked, "Is it alive?"

"Yes," Vision answered automatically, and then he reconsidered. "Well, they were."

"'Were'?!" she cried.

"It's good." The assurance might have been hasty, but he had no intention of ruining the game. "You'll like it, trust me."

Wanda paused. Her expression suggested that she was once again deep in thought. "So it was alive and isn't anymore, but I'll still like it." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "It's not an animal, is it?"

"No," was the firm answer. He knew that for sure.

"So it must be...plant." Now, a little smile came to her face "Flowers?"

Vision produced the bouquet and presented it to her with a bow. "Very astute." How delightful, that she was so intuitive!

Wanda gasped and seized it in her arms. "Oh, they're beautiful!"

Indeed they were. Full of color and the vibrancy of life, just like their recipient. But Wanda's voice trailed off as she stared into the bouquet, and then she gave a little laugh, looking up at him from under her hair as she rubbed a petal between her thumb and finger.

"Vision," she said slowly. "You know what red roses mean, don't you?"

"Yes," he answered, entirely confident. Certainly, his knowledge wasn't lacking in this area. "I researched flower meanings beforehand, and picked out this shade in particular."

The sly look on her face deepened into shyness, and she almost seemed to hide in the roses. "So, is there something you want to tell me?"

Vision stammered. He had been certain the flowers would do the talking for him. Still, he thought the matter over and managed to articulate, "Well—I know our schedules are very busy, but if we have some time, could we—that is, would you be interested in courting?"

Wanda smiled, a warm blush of color coming to her cheeks, and gently put her nose into the flower bouquet. Voice soft, she answered, "Why don't we find out?"

* * *

**A/N: Protecc these beans.**

**Reviews are late-night conversations. Tbc...**


	5. The Stone

The laboratory tests continued. Finally, Mr. Stark had perfected the equipment necessary to run experiments on what Barton affectionately termed "Vision's forehead laser". The moniker stuck and had become common vernacular amongst the team. Vision could find nothing inaccurate with it, so he raised no objections.

So far as he could tell, there was no effort expended on his part in projecting the "laser". Rather, a certain amount of effort was required to contain it. The Mind Stone, as he'd been informed it was called, brimmed with copious amounts of energy; a great deal of that energy served to house his already rapid processing capabilities—to be truthful, he had no way of knowing how much computing function took place in his own hardware and how much inside the Stone—but the rest was simply raw, unfiltered, and erupted readily from the exposed surface of the Stone if he ever gave it permission.

When he did give it permission, under careful scrutiny in this laboratory test—Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner wore tinted eye-wear as protection against the light—the veritable congress of sensors and detection equipment ringed around him returned with fascinating results. They found that the beam gave off a great deal of light, even beyond the visible spectrum; a small amount of localized radiation, mostly in the range of safe radio waves; heat, to the point that its disturbance of the air around it created a small buzzing sound (Dr. Banner likened this to the effect of thunder); and an extremely high level of force.

Vision was sorry that Mr. Stark's admittedly very heavy duty impact sensor was nearly destroyed in the direct blast, but Mr. Stark seemed non-perturbed, excited instead that they received any readings at all.

"The potential here is in isolation," Dr. Banner explained afterward, his hands gesturing excitedly in front of him. "You let it go all at once, you get the forehead laser, but what if you could isolate the different energies? Radio waves—those can interface with other electronics. A sound, if you make it loud enough, can disorient the enemy, paralyze an army. The force involved could knock a whole building over!"

"So you're saying he could do all our jobs?" asked Mr. Stark around a mouthful of a protein bar. "We could retire? I'd like to retire."

"I've tried to retire," muttered Dr. Banner.

"Barton's got me kind of inspired," Mr. Stark rambled on. "I had this idea for a little lake-house in the woods—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Vision said slowly, "but I'm not sure what my responsibility is in all of this."

"Right, just following a tangent." Mr. Stark folded the remainder of his protein bar in its wrapper and stored it away in his trouser pocket. "What do we want him to try first?" he asked Dr. Banner. "The sound? The radio waves? I like the radio waves," he continued, not waiting for an answer before he spoke to Vision. "We'll see if you can use them to connect with anything else without cheating and using wifi. Shall we get started?" he asked the room at large.

"In this mess?" Dr. Banner quietly jabbed a thumb behind him.

Mr. Stark's gaze raked over the scorched equipment in the room, and he stuck his tongue into his cheek. "Fair point." Turning to Vision, he removed the tinted glasses and folded them into his lapel pocket. "Actually, take the night off. We've gotta run some numbers and set something up. We'll ring you when it's ready."

"Thank you," Vision said, unsure what else to say but grateful to the both of them.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome." Mr. Stark waved over his shoulder as he walked away. "Go on, Astro Boy, shoo!"

When Dr. Banner returned his thanks with a silent but smiling nod, Vision once again lifted off his feet and flew through the walls. Perhaps he could take the opportunity of the free night to do some research.

* * *

**A/N: Whaaat? An update on Sunday? **Yeah, I had a long weekend and finished pre-writing all the chapters for this story, so I figured I'd just toss a new one up every day for the next week and a half and finish the fic. There are a few reasons for that:

1) Why not?

2) I'm kinda going into Bucky withdrawals

3) You won't have to wait until March to know the plot twist!

So yeah, updates will be happening daily from now on. Sorry for the spam, but I hope you enjoy them!

**Reviews are references to really old manga/anime that I'm not sure anyone will get but it made me giggle so I did it anyway. Tbc...**


	6. A Complication

Said research, of course, was for his upcoming date with Wanda.

Vision's hardware granted him the ability, which Ultron had also possessed, to access the internet from his own mind. He sat on the corner of his bed, legs crossed in front of him, reading page after page as fast as his processor could access and digest them.

The bed, incidentally, had never been properly used for its intended purpose, but Vision saw no need to remove it. It did complete the furnishings.

Though solitary in his room, he wasn't alone. Two others inhabited the wireless network of the HQ, and while one seemed preoccupied elsewhere, the other he could sense very near.

JARVIS had become a dear friend since his reconstruction from Vision's code. He did emerge a little battered and worse for wear, sadly, and—perhaps as a protective measure—Mr. Stark had assigned him oversight of the HQ's residential building, as opposed to the training and research one. Combat, or "the Hangar" as the latter was affectionately nicknamed, was primarily the responsibility of FRIDAY; but JARVIS, Mr. Stark kept close to home, right here in the Commons.

Vision couldn't blame Mr. Stark. He felt a certain odd, familial affection for JARVIS himself. Now that evening had fallen, and most occupants (at least the wise ones) of the HQ were preparing to rest for the night, Vision suspected that the sleepless system had little else to do than keep a metaphorical eye on his research.

Vision didn't mind. He could think of far worse company.

The rapid pace at which he read those articles did stall, for a moment, when he found something that concerned him. Vision read it again, then again—and then thrice more times to be sure—and then opened his eyes, his brow furrowing involuntarily.

"'On the third'...'third date'?" he echoed aloud, trying to forestall the wave of revulsion he felt coming over him.

JARVIS sounded amused when he spoke over the internet connection into Vision's mind. "The act of copulation is apparently a large piece of romantic human relationships." His tone was smooth, albeit with a little sardonic humor. "Sometimes occurring outside of relationships as well."

"How do you know this?" Vision didn't mean to issue it as a challenge, but he was quite unsettled. He even spoke aloud, even though it wasn't necessary.

"I have the Sir's younger years as a reference," JARVIS replied.

Vision got up from the bed and floated back and forth across the breadth of the room. He'd witnessed Mr. Stark doing this many a time—superfluous movement, ostensibly as a way to release stress and stimulate thought—and at the moment, he needed both.

"Certainly there's a way to conduct the relationship without such a thing," he said; admittedly, grasping at straws.

"It's possible," agreed JARVIS, "though I understand it's the exception to the rule. At some point, intimacy is expected."

"Desired by both parties?" asked Vision. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

"Sir's consorts certainly seemed eager to participate."

"No, that..." The straws were becoming ever thinner, and Vision could feel his distress rising. "That can't be right."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's just...I'm not sure that I'd want..."

Vision's voice faltered. He glanced back at the bed where he'd been seated—a nonsensical gesture, to be sure, seeing as an inanimate object would hold no answers for him, but suddenly the object itself had a far more grotesque meaning. He shut his eyes, brought up the website in his mind, read it again, closed it, and shook his head.

His voice was tight when he spoke again, and his hand involuntarily raised to his mouth, as if to hide it. "I—I'm afraid I've made a grave mistake."

"It cannot be so bad," JARVIS assured him quietly. "It's hardly been a few days' time."

"But what should I do?" Vision found himself asking the ceiling. Of all the questions he had to ask, the most immediate one seemed more pressing. "We're scheduled for Saturday."

"Perhaps go there and talk things out?" was the gentle suggestion. "There's no harm in trying."

Had Vision lungs, he would have sighed, but as it were he merely stopped floating and landed with both feet back on the floor. "Yes," he said simply, with a tenuous calm. "I will try."

* * *

**A/N: Uh-oh. (Oh yeah, and for those new to my work, JARVIS is back because of course he is.)**

**Reviews are friends who live in the wifi.**


	7. Badly Explained

The location of choice was a quaint open-air cafe, just inside the small town near which the HQ had been established. Vision supposed that his bright magenta skin would attract some unwanted attention, so he changed his appearance to that of a blonde young man who might logically be seen with Wanda.

Upon having bangs, he decided that hair was a very inconvenient thing, and he didn't understand why anyone would want it. But that, at the moment, was the least of his worries.

Wanda stirred her strawberry lemonade with the straw, the ice clinking against the sides of the glass. She gave a little smile with her eyebrows furrowed. "You're very tense today."

Despite the tightness in his chest that he could only label as anxiety, he attempted to smile for her benefit. "I guess I'm...nervous."

She gave an indulgent smile. "It's all right. I won't bite you." Then, she joked lightly, "Pietro might, if we make this official."

As she took a sip of her beverage, Vision's mind was whirling. She had no idea of the conflict raging inside his mind, and to be honest, he hardly wished to tell her; the fear of shattering her pleasant afternoon was abhorrent enough, saying nothing of the remainder of their relationship. He couldn't look her in the eye, couldn't bear to see her smile, but chose instead to stare at the floor—and she must have noticed.

"What's wrong?" She wasn't worried yet, but she was confused, and the smile was gone. Oh, that tore him apart.

"Wanda," he began slowly. He wasn't sure how much delicacy to use for this situation; what was the line between clarity and crassness? But he had to be direct. "Do you...want...children?" he finally managed. "As in, to bear them yourself?"

The surprise and blush that came over her face was far less pleasant than it had been when he presented the flowers. "It's..." she began, twiddling the straw in the glass and attempting to shrink her head down into her shoulders. "It's a bit soon to be asking that, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry, but I need to know." It took every bit of effort not to sound as distressed as he felt; he failed anyway.

Wanda's eyes searched his expression for a moment, intelligent and piercing, and then she sank her chin closer to the table and into her folded arms. "Maybe," she said just above a whisper. "I'd like to be a mother. Not so soon, of course, but...someday."

Vision felt as if he'd been crushed into the ground. He steepled his fingers and put his nose between his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

"Vizh?" cried Wanda, gently taking hold of his arms. "What did I say?"

"It's—it's not your fault." He raised his head and shifted his hands so that they clasped hers on the table. "It's mine. I'm afraid I miscalculated."

"That sounds so cold." Her grip was vice-like, as if she were afraid of losing hold. "What's wrong?"

"I don't—" Words were failing him. He let his head drop in defeat. "I don't know myself."

She shook her head, clearly bewildered. "Then why—?"

"You did nothing wrong." He released her hands gently and stood up from his chair, painfully aware that they were attracting stares from the other patrons. "I'm sorry. I...just give me time, and I'll explain."

She didn't stand, but searched his face with her eyes, and hadn't removed her gaze when she finally gave a sober nod. "Okay." Her voice was thin.

"Thank you." Miserably, he added, "I...I hope we can still be friends."

With that, he left.

* * *

**A/N: Ack! So sorry, guys**—**yesterday got away from me, and I totally forgot to update. As an apology, you get two chapters in one day!**

**Thanks to Ms. Mitty for your review! **I can't send you a PM, but I still wanted to thank you. It's always a huge compliment to hear that my writing style and portrayal of the characters are engaging.

**Reviews are strawberry lemonade. Tbc...**


	8. Sound

To say that things were awkward between him and Wanda from there on out would be the epitome of understatements. They seldom spoke to each other except formally, and if they happened to be near one another, she would catch his eye from across the room, look longing and saddened, and then leave.

Vision was miserable. To have disappointed someone dear to him was devastating enough, but worse than that was his inability to express his reason in words. What was wrong with him? Had he made a mistake? How could he find a resolution if he didn't even understand the problem?

"Something eating ya, Junior?"

It took him a moment to realize that someone had addressed him, and a moment longer to pull himself out of his thoughts. Mr. Stark leaned on the workbench on which Vision was seated, and in the normal jaunty smirk in the man's eyes was something akin to concern. Dr. Banner, hearing the discussion, looked up from where he was working across the laboratory.

"Ah," Vision answered slowly. "I'm...sorry. I was distracted."

"What by?" asked Mr. Stark. "Got cold feet?"

"Cold..." Vision stalled for a moment, confused. His internal temperature was fine. Perhaps Mr. Stark meant the figure of speech?

"It's just a little speaker," Dr. Banner spoke up. "Nothing to be nervous about."

"Not that we don't understand," added Mr. Stark. "Performance issues, we all get them, nothing to be ashamed about."

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes.

"No, I—" Vision finally found his words, and got them out with some effort. "It has nothing to do with the test."

"You sure?" Mr. Stark almost seemed unsure of his own question. "If now's a bad time, we can take a breather, no biggie."

"I'm fine, thank you." He floated off of the workbench. "Is everything prepared?"

"Ready when you are, champ," was the answer.

Vision struggled to concentrate for some time, the yellow glow flickering and pulsing in his forehead. Isolating the radiant energy of the Stone was a task enough, but he could never manage to stay there. As soon as his thoughts turned inwards, all he could see was the hurt in her eyes when the smile fell off of her face...

A connection was made. The Bluetooth speaker on the workbench gave a small _blip_.

Immediately, a barrage of howling, screeching sound blasted through.

Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner shouted in surprise and pain and covered their ears.

Vision lost control.

A blast of heat and light burst from his forehead, knocking him backwards and scorching the nearby blast walls and equipment. The sound ceased.

When he regained his bearings, he found that Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner had ducked for cover, the latter coughing on the smoke that now filled the lab. They were unharmed, but the nearby computers were scorched.

Vision was terribly upset. He didn't wait for them to say anything; he just escaped, phasing straight through the walls.

* * *

**A/N: Oh no.**

**Reviews are...uh, not blowing up your pseudo-dad's lab? Tbc...**


	9. Resolve

Vision was hiding in his room.

He was inconsolable. He sat on his bed, knees up to his chin and arms around his legs. There were only two things he wanted at this point—comfort, and to be left alone—and if the contact of his own body against itself, folded up into a little ball like this, could afford him the first thing, he had no effort left in him to question it.

He was alone. In one sense, that's exactly what he wanted to be, and in another it only made him more miserable still. He was desperately confused, disoriented, and lost, and he felt if things continued the way they were he might find out if he had synthetic tear ducts after all.

That was when he noticed that, unbidden, a soft piano melody had begun to play over the speaker in his room, and an alto woman's voice along with it.

_You've been acting awful tough lately  
__Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately  
__But inside...  
__You're just a little ba-by_

Vision frowned slightly at the sudden soprano. It wasn't lost on him that he'd only been alive for a few months at this point; perhaps the real baby was he.

_It's okay to say you've got a weak spot  
__You don't always have to be on top  
__Better to be hated  
__Than loved, loved, loved for what you're not_

The frown deepened, and he placed his nose between his knees. He wondered if he'd loved Wanda for the wrong reasons. He wondered, too, if she'd done the same.

_You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable  
__You are not a robot_

Vision gave a short little laugh that was almost a snort.

_You're lovable, so lovable  
__But you're just troubled_

By this time, Vision had pieced together what was going on. He closed his eyes, connected to the wifi, and spoke to JARVIS.

"All right, I understand."

Immediately, the music stopped. The bedroom resumed its usual silence for a moment before JARVIS spoke over their connection.

"If what I can read of your memory banks is correct," he said gently, "you did promise Miss Maximoff an explanation."

Vision sat up a little straighter, uncurling his legs and draping them over the edge of the mattress. "I guess I ought to make good on that promise."

"I'd recommend it."

Vision's shoulders slumped as he stared at his feet. "I'm just not sure I know what the explanation is."

"Then perhaps that is the next order of business," JARVIS said kindly. "To find the explanation, if there is one—and then, to communicate it."

Vision smiled, and then it faltered. There were only two people he knew to whom he could admit this without any semblance of offense; and the other was FRIDAY. Had he lungs, he might have sighed. "Humanity is complicated."

"It is. If you wish to be one of them, you'd do well to face that complication head-on."

Vision nodded, his jaw set and spine straight. "I will work on it tonight, then." Then, warmly, he added, "Thank you, JARVIS."

"It is my utmost pleasure," the quiet voice answered—and it truly sounded like it was.

* * *

**A/N: JARVIS' pick was "I Am Not a Robot" by Marina and the Diamonds, in case you were wondering. We're in the homestretch now!**

**Reviews are a well-timed song. Tbc...**


	10. Yellow Roses

So Vision waited for a day they could be alone on the common room couches, with the sunlight pouring through the wide windows and glistening on the surface of the river outside. Wanda sat on the other side of the coffee table from Vision, looking just as nervous as he felt with her hands folded in her lap, and he with his fingers steepled and elbows on his knees.

"I've been very selfish, Wanda," he began quietly. "I should have done more research sooner, and spared you any heartache.

"I was under the impression that the measure of a person was to..." He paused, searching for the words. "To love someone else, very specifically. So I looked at my options, and as we're quite close—at least, I would hope so—I figured you were my best option.

"But I'm not interested in..." He paused, and finished laboriously, "having children. I'm not—at least, I don't think I'm opposed to being _around_ children, but to have them myself, if you take my meaning—I'm sorry, but I find the whole thing a little repulsive." He gave a small laugh without any humor and frowned. "I'm not even sure it would be possible.

"Yet if this is a dream you have—to be a mother, and to connect with your partner intimately—it wouldn't be right to deprive you. No matter how much you care for me, and I for you, it wouldn't be right to ask you to sacrifice a part of yourself."

Wanda had been quiet thus far. Watching, listening, letting him speak. He had occasionally seen a flicker of a new emotion on her face, but most of it was an unreadable frown of concentration, one that was slowly clearing into understanding and something else he couldn't name.

Vision couldn't look at her face anymore. He stared at the glass coffee table, his voice heavy in his throat. Had he tear ducts, he had a suspicion they were about to make themselves known soon.

"I thought this would prove that I really am human. That I am one of you."

Defeated, he put his face in his hands.

"But I'm not."

Wanda leaped off the couch and across the room and threw her arms around his shoulders.

Vision was shocked. He recognized this as a gesture of comfort, but the timing and emotion behind it was so strange. Appreciative, but confused, he moved to situate his hands high on her back and return the embrace.

Wanda shook her head into his shoulder. For a moment, it seemed like she couldn't speak; when she did, her voice was clogged with tears. "No, no, Vizh...you've got it all wrong."

Vision was still very confused, and now a little nervous. He watched her face as she released him, smiled, and sat down on the cushion next to him. There were tears still standing in her eyes.

"You cared enough to make a mistake right," she said. "You cared enough to put me first." She traced the golden plate high on his head with her fingertip, as if brushing imaginary hair out of his face, and Vision could feel his eyes going wide.

"That's what it really means to be a person." Wanda gave a small, musical laugh, even as the tears turned her eyes a little red. "You don't have to give me flowers to prove that."

Vision felt as if the whole world had ground to a halt, but also, that everything had fallen into place.

He'd had it wrong. He'd had the whole equation all wrong!

_if: one is in love with another  
__if: one is in love with  
__if: one is in love  
__if: one is in_

_ if: one is  
__then: one is human_

It took a moment for the simple truth to sink in, but when it did, he found he was smiling—smiling like his face would break, smiling like he might cry just like her. For the first time in—well, perhaps the very first time at all—he truly felt at home in his own vibranium skin.

He was. That was enough.

"Thank you," he whispered to Wanda.

She answered with a tight smile, the tears still lingering on her lower eyelids, but now they glistened like little pearls or jewels.

Vision hesitated before he spoke again. "I know you said I don't have to get you flowers, but..." He reached over the armrest of the couch and gently retrieved the bouquet he'd placed on the floor. "I brought these.

"This is lily of the valley," he explained quietly, lifting a slender stem from which hung a dozen white flowers like little bells. "It means I'm sorry, and I want a clean start. And the yellow roses...are for friendship." He offered it nervously, half dreading she wouldn't accept.

But Wanda took the flowers in her hands, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve. She smiled a little into the bouquet and rubbed a petal between her thumb and finger. "Well, the red ones were wilting anyway."

She put her nose close and breathed in the sweet scent, then looked up and hugged the bouquet to her chest with a smile like the sun. "I like the yellow better."

Vision couldn't have measured his relief if he tried.

Back to her old self, Wanda set the bouquet in her lap and twisted one lip under the other. "It's going to be awkward telling the others we're not really dating."

Vision gave a short laugh. "That _will_ be uncomfortable." It wasn't lost on him that they wouldn't be dealing with that discomfort if it hadn't been for his hasty proposal; he wished greatly that he hadn't started this at all. "I'm...so sorry, Wanda."

"It's all right." She squeezed his hand, a warmth and wisdom in her eyes that could only have been born from the experiences that had aged her beyond her years. "We all make mistakes."

_There is grace in their failings_, Vision recalled, and he had to smile. Never would he have supposed the day would come when he could say that about himself; perhaps he was truly a member of humanity after all.

Regardless, he could say for sure that it was an absolute honor and pleasure to know Wanda.

She reached to hug him, and this time he returned it properly, and could feel the bouquet in her fist pressed against his back.

"You're my best friend, Vizh," she declared before letting him go.

Vision felt awed and warmed down to his toes. "I'm honored."

Wanda beamed like herself again and gestured with the bouquet. There still seemed to be some awkward, nervous energy around her—the same that Vision could feel in himself—but could see she was happy again. "I'm going to put these in my room."

"Yes, of course," he replied.

So with that, she stood up and cantered down the hall, a bounce in her step and the yellow roses bright in her hands and the morning sunlight.

Vision smiled nonsensically at the ceiling. He felt warm and good and like floating away into the sky, and he finally felt like everything had fallen into place.

* * *

**A/N: Ta-da! That's the twist! Vision in the Remembered AU is aro/ace. Yee.**

**Reviews are yellow roses. Tbc...**


	11. I Am Not A Robot

"You sure you're up for this? I mean, no harm done, blowing up my lab—I can replace a supercomputer if I need to, I'm not a billionaire for nothing—but if you're gonna hurt yourself, or anyone else, or it's just a bad day..."

"No." Vision gently interrupted Mr. Stark's rambling with a smile and a slight wave of his hand. The equipment around him had been replaced with shining new counterparts, just as Mr. Stark said, though there were still some black scorch marks behind them on the concrete walls. Yet, somehow, Vision felt he could forgive himself for that.

"I apologize," he went on. "I was under some distress that day, and I neglected to inform you properly. I can see that it negatively affected the experiment, but I assure you, I'm feeling much better today."

"You're sure?" Mr. Stark removed the safety glasses and raised an eyebrow. "No rush if you're not ready. We got all the time in the world here."

Vision stopped to ponder that for a moment. Was he really up to the task? Perhaps it wasn't his emotions that thwarted the test at all, but his own inability to control the Stone. It would be foolish to make a false assumption and risk the safety of those around him.

As his gaze wandered around the room, he happened to glance out the blast window, into the hall that ran down the center of Mr. Stark's wing. There on the other side of the glass was Wanda, who gave a cheeky grin and two thumbs up, and her brother beside her, leaning on the window with a smirk.

Vision smiled back, and then answered with a new confidence. "Yes. I'm sure."

Mr. Stark shrugged one shoulder, turned around, and gestured in the air with the safety glasses before fitting them back on his face. "Brucey, we're good to go. Set us up and take cover."

Dr. Banner made a small face, but acquiesced. "Here we go again."

A few moments and protective measures later, Vision closed his eyes, the Mind Stone glowing softly and radiating a slight heat in his forehead. He could almost hear everyone else in the vicinity holding their breath as he reached out, gently, in an effort to connect with the little speaker on the table.

There was a small _blip_, then silence.

He could hear Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner brace behind the desk.

Vision's eyebrows furrowed deeper, and he concentrated harder...

A soft melody and alto voice emerged from the speaker.

_Can you teach me how to feel...  
__Real...?  
__Can you turn my power off?  
__And let the drum beat drop_

The music swelled, and Vision opened his eyes and smiled, the Mind Stone glowing in his head. Mr. Stark's jaw dropped open, and Dr. Banner let out a whoop.

_Guess what!  
__I am not a robot!_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for the positive response, everybody. Just two more chapters now! **

**Introducing the super-power that nobody asked for but everyone secretly wanted**—**Vision controlling any computer thingy in existence with his mind! Can you imagine how terrifying this would be on a large scale?**

**Reviews are a thumbs-up through the window. Tbc...**


	12. Entirely New

Vision sat on a couch in the common room, reading.

All told, those were two activities that he really had no need of doing. His muscles did not tire like the organic ones of his friends, so sitting was really rather superfluous, and he could ingest information much more quickly by accessing it through the internet than processing the words in front of him on a screen.

But Mr. Stark had finally gotten the IrDA receivers to work on all the HQ's pertinent devices, and Vision felt it would be unkind to let the gesture go unappreciated; and besides, he enjoyed the occasional shared activity with his teammates.

It was in that spirit, after all, that he'd decided to express his own humanity by manifesting clothes of his own tastes; but he did not, and would not—unless it were necessary for a mission—do anything to disguise his magenta skin.

It was the Sergeant who happened to be seated on the adjacent couch that afternoon, a traditional paperback book in his hand rather than a StarkPad. They mutually paid each other little mind and enjoyed the quiet of the shared activity until Vision noticed motion at the corner of his eye.

Pietro had been rummaging in the nearby kitchenette, making some sort of sandwiches, but he had suddenly become very quiet, and circled around behind Bucky with the tube of the paper towel roll that he had presumably just emptied.

Vision caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. Pietro raised a finger to his lips, grinning. Bucky was apparently engrossed in his book and hadn't noticed.

As Vision watched in bemusement, Pietro blew gently through the tube, so that the slight breeze just barely moved a few strands of Bucky's hair. The older man blinked and frowned slightly, but didn't react otherwise.

Pietro repeated this again, and then once more, until Bucky got suspicious and turned around.

Pietro blew a raspberry down the tube and right into his face.

Bucky jumped and hollered in surprise. Pietro cackled and was out of the room in a flash, but not before Bucky had yanked the tube out of his hand and leaped over the couch to chase him down the hall with it, grinning and yelling in Sokovian at the top of his lungs.

Vision didn't laugh aloud at the scene, but he did find himself fighting to temper a smile. Mr. Stark entered from another hall and peered curiously towards the noise, then made a face and headed for the coffee maker.

He had just poured himself a mug, and Vision had stopped paying any attention, when he suddenly asked, "Did you raid somebody's closet?"

Vision looked up from the StarkPad, caught slightly off-guard. "Ah, no." He smoothed his hand down over the front of the dark knit sweater. "I...made these."

"Huh." Mr. Stark paused to think it over, then stepped forward, sipping on his coffee, to get a closer look. He rubbed the hem of Vision's sleeve between his thumb and forefinger and began to ramble, "Different aspect of the mass manipulation, changing it into different substances, now that's something I didn't think of.

"How are you doing that?" he added, straightening up and pointing. "Changing molecules, adding or subtracting electrons? It's incredible." He took another sip.

Vision was mildly confused. "I don't know how it happens on the microscopic level," he admitted, "but I just...thought them up."

"Hm." Mr. Stark stepped back and put his hand in the pocket of his jeans, looking the outfit over. "Kinda nerd chic, with the knit sweater. A little formal. But you know what?" He pointed with the mug, then returned it to his chest as he tipped his head. "Really works for you."

Vision was unsure what to make of any of that except the compliment at the end. "Thank...you?"

"Oh, you're welcome." Mr. Stark raised the mug to his lips again, then paused when a thought seemed to hit him. "You sure you don't want to get back with Wanda?"

"Oh, no, I'm..." He hesitated. He had no desire for Mr. Stark to think any less of him—much less to appear high and mighty over his predecessor's past—but he wanted desperately to be honest about who he was, and hopefully, to be respected for it. "I don't," he answered slowly, "think I'm interested in that sort of thing."

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow. Then, he shrugged. "All right. Different strokes for different folks. Not sure I could do without personally, but you do you." He paused for a moment, looking awkward, then finally said, "Good talk."

He walked away, sipping his coffee.

Vision realized that he'd been sitting ramrod straight through the entire conversation, and allowed himself to relax into the couch with a smile. Perhaps, if there were no other choice, it really would be preferable for one to be hated than to be loved for what one was not—but he was fortunate, beyond fortunate, to be known, accepted, and loved for what he was.

Something entirely unique, and entirely new: the Vision.

He went back to his reading.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: Told ya I was having Bucky withdrawals. Anyway, Tony! Being accepted by your pseudo dad/grandpa! Tony's relation to Vision is confusing. **

**Oh, I forgot to mention it in the first chapter, but IrDA is a real thing. **Unfortunately, I only understand it so far as I could comprehend the Wikipedia page, so anyone with more knowledge about turn-of-the-century hardware can feel free to correct me.

**I hope it should be obvious, but I have nothing against ScarletVision! **It's clearly canon in the comics, and Wanda and Vision are adorable together, which is why I wanted them to stay friends here. If that's your ship, good for you! But it's not the ship I sail.

(Everyone: Order your WinterWitch is showing

Me: shhhh)

**In case you needed to hear it: You are enough. Life is about becoming the best person you can be, and it's a journey that you can't shortcut by finding another person to "complete" you. If you find someone you love very much and want to continue your journeys together, good. But if you don't, even better. People lift each other up and help each other best when they act as the complete persons that they are, helping to build up other complete people. **

**That's it! I hope you enjoyed the story. Reviews are something entirely unique and entirely new. **


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